


Like the dawn

by kidskylark



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Mushy OC romance, Other, Our DM brought them back for the hell of it (?) so I was possessed with a need to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22422490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidskylark/pseuds/kidskylark
Summary: There's nothing like a little catastrophe and world-saving to kick off your emotional reunion with your long-lost presumed-dead spouse. So... now what?Phantom and Flint been married for a short time before Phantom disappeared. Phantom, played by the DM, revealed in-session that they had received a vision of the city Pherephrasa's doom, and so they left without telling Flint. Flint, coincidentally, also ended up in Pherephrasa, working on the same problem. #That Feel When.
Relationships: Flint/Phantom
Kudos: 2





	Like the dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Phantom and Flint both use they/them pronouns.

When you return to the city, things almost feel normal again. The lingering damp feels like the result of a very unusual rainstorm, not a catastrophic flood. Menthari's Rest is being rebuilt. Had you not known, borne witness to it yourself and been bloodied by its blows, you might never have believed an elder god once enveloped everything here, and threatened to wipe the great city from the land entirely.

Exhausted from their efforts, the Oracle and Lady Asema retire and go their separate ways, and, as evening approaches, the citizens of Pherephrasa filter into their various shelters. With time, so do your teammates. You... don't.

Instead, you're out on the street corner, somewhere in the middle of the Heights, playing songs for passers-by. Or, that's what you intended to do. What you actually do is play songs for Phantom, who is only half-listening. After your second rendition of "The Elven Queen's Rejoicing," they put their silver-scaled hand over yours. Your fingers instantly still on the delicate metal tines of your kalimba.

"You said it was okay," they say.

"It is," you reply.

"Is it?"

You look up at them, just for the briefest second, and then back to your instrument. You don't start playing again, but your fingers are itching.

"Is there any other option?"

They seem dissatisfied with this response. They withdraw their hand. You consider playing again, but the quiet feels so delicate. Why would you disrupt it that way?

"You're allowed to be upset with me, Flint."

"Maybe I don't want to."

The crests above their eyes raise by at least an inch. You feel it, long before you see it. "You don't  _ want _ to?"

You shrug. Phantom hates that. "I mean, I have better things to worry about. Not -" They draw in a breath, and you take one hand off your kalimba, holding it up for a pause. "Not  _ better _ . More... urgent. More critical things to worry about. You know, elder gods, doomsday cults, the works."

"Elder gods,  _ plural? _ " Phantom presses.

"It's." You choke. Your free hand wilts, fingers curling in, before it drops to the table beside you. "It's been... a long few years."

_ Years, _ you repeat in your head. Phantom has been gone for so long. You'd given up hope. Sailing around the world yielded you nothing, and you thought they would know, if they ever wanted to find you, all they had to do was go to the sea. You searched everywhere, and when you ran out of places to search, you asked your friends, neighbors, anyone you met. No one had seen them. No one could say. Silver dragonborn are rare, yes, but Phantom in particular had, seemingly, simply... vanished.

And now, here, in the middle of nowhere, they appear. No strings. No tricks. No cost.

You  _ think. _

You swallow down the panic at that thought, and Phantom senses your unease, straightening in their chair. They almost speak. You almost speak. At the same time, you each wait for the other one to speak, and when no one does, you try again.

"I need..." Your mouth is dry. You struggle to dampen the rasp in your voice. "Can I cast "dispel magic" on you?"

Phantom pauses. "What?"

You don't know how to talk about it. You don't know what to say. Your eyes sting, and you lift your elbow to cover them with your whole arm, wiping the blossoming tears away with your sleeve. "I need to know you're real. I know it's stupid. Listen, it's - I've seen a lot. I have a lot of people trying to kill me right now. And before I spill my guts to you, I want to know it's really you."

They hesitate, as anyone would, if asked to simply submit to a spell, but after thinking for a moment - "Yes. That seems fair."

You don't bother standing up. Your legs feel weak anyway. With a few notes on your kalimba, you begin the spell, stuttering just enough on the verbal component that you have to try again.

When it's cast, Phantom just sits. Shimmering orange magic flows over them like a stream, and no fiber of them resists its travel. Nothing changes, nothing alters, they hardly even move.

It's just... Phantom. As you feel the tears returning, breaking down the dams, you're not quite sure if that's better or worse.

"Flint..." they murmur, reaching for your hand. You, finally, rest your instrument on the table, where the wood clunks only a little on its surface. Phantom's scales are finer on the inside of their hands, locked together tighter, and their claws are always so gentle with you. You've never once felt threatened by them. "I can't read your mind. You have to tell me what's wrong."

"I just." You curse, lifting your sleeve to cover your eyes again, but now your nose is running too. The avalanche of feelings and minor inconvenience is inescapable. "I don't know what to  _ do. _ "

"About the cult?"

"About  _ you. _ "

Phantom gets it. Their brief pause says it all. "Yes," they confirm. "I've been... trying to puzzle through it, too."

You have to detach from them to blow your nose, a desperate attempt to make yourself look less pitiful, more functional. When you can talk again, you're right back to it. "You realize I thought you were  _ dead, _ right? I looked everywhere. I thought something happened to you. I thought someone  _ took _ you, or something, I don't know what - but when I looked and couldn't find you, for  _ years, _ I... I guess I kind of gave up. I didn't want to. I was still  _ looking, _ but more afraid of what I might find."

Phantom nods. "I didn't inspire confidence. It..." They bow their head. "It wasn't my brightest moment. I should have left some sort of sign for you."

You laugh. It's bitter. "Would've helped, maybe," you mumble. "But you know. Gods. Kind of testy, kind of weird."

"I know it's in the past, and as you say... better things to worry about. But Flint:" They lean over the table to face you. The elegant fans of their face, the gentle curve of their horns, their silver eyes glinting in the light... "We're on the same side now. Again. And if  _ nothing _ else, I still want to be on your team."

"Yeah. Same." is all you can manage at first.

The eye contact is intense. You break it. You've spent so long with glamours and tricks, being genuine feels a little too raw right now. You hardly even told your team about Phantom. Introducing them now must have seemed so convenient, abrupt. How will they feel? A cleric of Jaquari simply  _ showing up, _ so perfectly aligned to help at that exact moment.

"I... I want to try," you start again, stumbling, "being... with you? Again."

Phantom's eyes are sympathetic. Dragonborn are so expressive with their eyes, with their mouths so difficult to see beneath their snouts. "You're certain?"

"I don't know," you admit, laughing again. It helps, this time. It doesn't make you feel like a wounded animal. "Big ask. Do I know anything right now? Will your big friend -" Jaquari, their patron god - "let you take a partner again? Do I need to ask him?"

Their nose makes a little  _ whuff _ of air, the closest thing you've gotten to a laugh all day. "No, you don't need to ask him. It will be more complicated, but... I want to try it, too. So we can try."

"It's not the same," you say, completing their thought, "but it doesn't  _ have _ to be the same. A lot has changed. A fuckton, I'd say, about both of us. I can do some  _ really _ cool magic now, and you're - god - on par with the  _ Oracle? _ "

"It's complicated," they admit, "but don't worry about it."

You snort. "Easy for you to say."

You're a halfling, so your reach isn't exactly long. You pull you knees under you to kneel on your chair and get more leverage, then reach across the table to pull both of Phantom's hands in towards you.

"I made a vow once. 'Til death do us part.' I'm not dead, and you're not dead, right? So that vow still holds."

Phantom whuffles another laugh, dipping their head. It's the dragonborn equivalent of a blush. Dragons are noble creatures, and to bow is their most vulnerable act.

"You and your promises," they murmur.

"I'm not a fae worker for nothing," you reply, and kiss them once on both sides of their face. "Promises are important to us. I didn't make that vow lightly, and I'm affirming it now. I'm yours. Now and forever, as long as you'll have me, as long as you're happy."

Phantom's eyes are glittering as they look back up at you. "Then I believe," they say, soft as they can, "that I will be happy for many, many more years to come."


End file.
